


To Thine Ownself Be True

by KahtyaSofia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Partner Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How that certain event in Brad's life might have gone down…and why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Thine Ownself Be True

**Author's Note:**

> There have been a few stories lately operating on the premise that Nate is gay and either comes out or casually confesses it to Brad during a moment of bonding. Brad then seemingly takes the attitude that 'it's not men, it's only Nate'. What if Brad's ex-fiance and best friend figured him out before he figured himself out? What if they consider what they did to be a favor and not a betrayal? Un-beta'd, all errors are my own. Con crit is love.

Brad had been home from his most recent training course for a day. He'd unpacked, started laundry, gone surfing, had dinner with his parents and his sisters and made a lot of phone calls. Brad had let everyone know he was back and had one more specialty certification to his name. He'd taken on yet another challenge and had made it his bitch.

He'd called Jennifer and Ryan the day before, right after he'd called his mom. Brad hadn't been able to work either of them into his schedule until today. He had so many things he wanted to do and his mother would have hunted him down and killed his sorry ass if he'd done anything his first night back other than let her cook him dinner.

Brad wondered what Jen and Ryan would want to do today. They could go surfing, but it was a little late in the day for the good waves. Jet skiing would take too much prep and driving. Maybe they could go bouldering out in the hills.

He sat down to check his email and wondered idly if he should finally buy Jen a ring. It occurred to him he might just as well skip that part and finally marry Jen. They'd been together for half their lives. She had begun to make noises about Brad putting up or shutting up.

Brad's gut clenched at the thought of his long-time fiancé wearing an outward symbol of their engagement. The idea of actually getting married literally scared the shit out of him. He'd made a habit of overcoming his fears and making them submit to his will. Why then, was Brad unable to take what seemed to be the next logical step in his life? More than that, why did it frighten him to think about?

Closing his laptop abruptly, Brad put a fucking stop to that line of thinking. Things were good between Jennifer and him. They had things in common; similar interests. Unlike a lot of girlfriends, she got along with his best friend. Ryan never felt like a third wheel when they all went out together. Brad convinced himself that things were good as they were, why try to change it?

It occurred to Brad that he often felt out of step with Jen and Ryan when they were all together. He didn't always seem to get all the fucking little jokes. Brad would talk about the Corps and whose ass he'd kicked last. They would listen politely, make noises of supposed interest and the entire time, Brad would feel wrong-footed.

His anxious musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. Brad opened it to Jennifer standing tensely on his porch. He smiled, genuinely happy to see her. Jen usually greeted him enthusiastically, though. Brad could count on a hug, a kiss and long moments of simply holding on after having been apart.

Today though, Jennifer didn't launch herself into his arms. Instead, she stood stiffly at his door, a tense smile on her face and her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. A wave of dread washed over Brad.

"Hey, Brad," Jen's voice was soft.

"Jen," he replied in kind. "Are you going to come in?"

She stepped over the threshold and he closed the door behind her.

"I thought Ryan was coming over with you." Brad said, watching Jennifer shift her weight from foot to foot anxiously. The dread now formed a tight knot in his chest, as well.

"He's waiting outside," she replied. "We thought it would be better if I talked to you alone, first."

Brad knew. He knew what was coming but the more perverse part of him demanded he hear her say it. Jennifer was going to have to say the fucking words. Until then, it wasn't real.

"So talk." Brad said, his voice flat and resigned.

Jennifer took a deep breath and straightened her spine. At least she was going to look him in the fucking eye when she ripped out his heart.

"You know I love you, Brad," she said quickly, as if she had a prepared speech she needed to rush through. "And I'm sure you love me, but not in the way two people need to in order to get married. Spend their lives together."

Brad remained silent. He wasn't going to make this any fucking easier for her. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but right where he was. Brad wished he were down at the beach surfing. Mark would probably still be there, floating on his board and waiting for the next set. Brad could use Mark's perfect, carefree smile right now.

"You and I have grown up together," Jennifer continued. "But you have to admit, we've grown apart instead of growing closer."

"If you say so." was the only response Brad could muster. She was going to do it. The bitch was going to stomp on his heart and his pride on her way out his door.

"You and I want different things from our lives," Jennifer rushed on. "You want to constantly push and challenge yourself and I want quiet evenings at home over dinner and a good book."

"Hard to make dinner conversation with a trained killer, I guess." Brad said disparagingly, wanting her to hurt, just like she was hurting him.

"Oh, stop it!" Jen snapped at him. "There is nothing wrong with what you want to do with your life, Brad. It just doesn't fit with what I want to do with mine."

"Since Ryan has conveniently avoided this confrontation by hiding like a pussy in the car," Brad growled, starting to pace the room. "I assume his wants and needs are compatible with yours?"

"He's waiting outside because I asked him to," Jennifer tried to sound calm and reasonable. "I wanted you to hear what I have to say without an audience."

Brad was surprised she'd thought to give him that kind of consideration. His pride was smarting and the fewer witnesses to his humiliation, the better. Especially an audience consisting of his best friend, or rather former best friend, who seemed to have betrayed him in the worst way.

"Brad, we both love you," Jennifer started again. "So we're going to be honest with you about all of this. But you need to start being honest with yourself, too."

"And just how is it you believe I'm deluding myself?" he asked sarcastically, silently afraid Jen might actually speak a painful truth to him.

"You push yourself to be the very best at everything you do," Jennifer responded. "That's admirable. And you're good at everything you do. But have ever stopped long enough to realize that everything you do, every challenge you pursue, is hyper-masculine in nature?"

"That is the most retarded thing I've ever heard you say." Brad snapped. He really didn't want to know where she was going with this.

"Think about it, Brad," Jennifer's voice rose slightly in anger and frustration. "You ride a dangerous motorcycle at dangerous speeds. You became a Marine. Then you joined what is basically the Marine's Special Forces. You jump out of planes, you dive to dangerous depths and you climbed a damn mountain on a broken ankle because to stop for treatment would have made you a 'pussy'."

The ferocity of her speech left Brad silent. The truth in her words settled over him and left him feeling vaguely ill.

"To ask you who you're trying to prove your masculinity to sounds like a cliché," Jen barreled onward, now on a roll. "But really, Brad, just what do you feel you need to prove?"

"I don't have a goddamn thing to prove to anyone but myself," barked at her, more scared than angry and not comfortable with that feeling at all.

"Fine," Jennifer said, waving a hand dismissively in his direction. "But ask yourself this; can you relate to a woman in any capacity other than sexually? Or are you more comfortable with men?"

Brad had no idea what the fuck she meant by that and a ball of nerves in his gut was going to keep him from pondering it too closely.

"Let me ask you something, Jennifer," Brad's voice was low and dangerous. "How long have you and Ryan been fucking behind my back?" She was touching on topics Brad wasn't ready to deal with and he needed to turn the conversation to a safer topic. One for which he could build up a righteous anger.

To her credit, Jennifer didn't even flinch. "About as long as you've treated me like a best buddy instead of a lover."

Later, when Brad was alone, he'd take out the memory of that answer and comb through it, analyze it, and understand all the implications of it. For now, all he could see was a betrayal. All he wanted to see was a betrayal. This Brad could be angry about and when he was angry, he didn't have to think about his fear.

"I think you've said all there is to say," Brad said, moving to open the front door and hold it for Jennifer to exit. "Now you can get the fuck out with a clear conscience."

"Ryan wants to speak with you, too," Jennifer said as she stepped toward the open door. "He respects you enough to want to explain all of this to you face-to-face."

"Sure, why not?" Brad's disdain was palpable. "I could use another kick in the teeth."

~~~~~~~

Ryan closed the door behind himself when he entered Brad's home.

"Brad, buddy," he said, an imploring expression on his face. "I never meant for this to happen. It just did. Jen and I want to all stay friends, though."

Brad snorted his disgust. "Could you work another bad breakup cliché into that speech?"

"Come on, man," Ryan persisted. "We've all been friends for way too long. We want you to be happy. We just think you need to step back and figure out what type of person would make you happy."

"Oh, you do, do you?" When the fuck did everyone decide they knew him better than he knew himself?

"Brad, you have never shied away from admitting when a man is attractive and you don't relate at all to women on any level other than physical. Think about it." Ryan made it all sound so obvious.

Brad remembered having more of a bonding conversation with the waiter the last time he and Jennifer had gone out, than he'd had with Jennifer. He'd think about that later. For now, the man he'd thought of as a brother for years was admitting to burying a knife in Brad's back.

"Fine, I'll think about it," Brad said shortly, ready to be alone to lick his wounds. "Now you can get the fuck out and go run off and be happy with Jennifer."

"We're here for you when you're ready to talk about all of this." Ryan said, opening the door.

Brad wondered if his former best friend had always been such an unimaginative asshole.

When he was finally alone, Brad looked around his house and noticed, as if for the first time, how smartly decorated the place was. He had window coverings and coordinated throw pillows on the sofa. All of his dishes matched. He had air fresheners in every room. He knew how to cook and had a complete set of professional cookware.

He used to scoff when his sister said the secret to understanding him was to realize he was really a girl. Now Brad wasn't so sure she was wrong.

~~~~~~~

Nate fucking Fick looked up at Brad from under his utility cover and he knew the end game was nigh and he was so utterly fucked. Green eyes and a perfect smirking mouth was the final piece of an unfinished puzzle that finally slotted into place. Brad hadn't been able to get close to women, really bond with them, because he'd been waiting all of his life for this moment.

He could accept that the one person he'd ever met who seemed to get him was a man, but it was the biggest fucking cosmic joke of all time that the man was his commanding officer.

Fucked didn't begin to cover it.


End file.
